Untitled
by Shelliebelle
Summary: Mamoru has lost his memory and is unaware that he ever loved Usagi, while Usagi has retained her memory. And encounter in the park leads to some interesting confessions on Usagi's part.


She'd forgotten her shoes. Without a second thought, I snatched up the dainty, white sandals from the floor and followed the brooding blonde to the park across from the arcade. She must have sensed me following her, as she quickened her pace, but she didn't look back at me.

Funny how I'd almost forgotten how fast she can be. I lost her somewhere in the cluster of weeping willows, the sounds of her bare feet rustling over the grass lost amidst the thrum of city noise. It took several moments for me to realize that I hadn't lost her after all. She was long gone, but her delicate footprints were clearly visible in the dewy grass. In places, the slender sprigs had been bent under the weight of her feet. I followed her footprints through the trees, to a concrete path some distance away. The morning was quickly warming, and the wet marks on the pavement were fading quickly. A momentary panic seized me as the last visible footprint faded before my eyes. I soon realized that her trail was dead, but I no longer needed it.

Somewhere in my mind it registered that I could no longer hear the busy city noises to which I was so accustomed. Instead I heard the foreign sounds of birds chirping in the trees, the steady hum of bees pollinating flowers nearby, and the curious rush of water over rocks. And there she was, sitting on the grassy bank of a tiny, gurgling brook, dipping one foot into the running water. Her arms were looped around one raised knee, her eyes gazed unseeing into the woods beyond the far bank of the brook, her unbound hair spilling down her back like a gold cape. She was humming a strangely familiar tune. It was a pretty, simple melody, and I was sure I'd heard it before, but for the life of me, I couldn't have told you where.

Abruptly, she stopped humming, and without turning to face me, she spoke.

"May I have my shoes, Chiba-san?" she asked. I tucked the shoes into my jacket pocket.

"Odango," I began, starting forward. She still didn't turn, but her fingers fisted in the cotton skirt of her white sundress.

"Please," she interrupted, "I would like my shoes, Chiba-san."

Her voice was perfectly calm and even, and something about it almost hurt me. It certainly wasn't like her to speak in such a manner.

"I'm worried about you, Odango," I said. "I know we're not really friends, but you're not acting at all like yourself. I want you to know that you can tell me if anything's bothering you."

A hysterical little giggle escaped her, and I took a few more steps towards her. She climbed unsteadily to her feet, and I suddenly realized how very upset she was. I'd seen Usagi cry many times before, but her tears were always accompanied by a piercing wail. I certainly wasn't prepared for the brokenness I saw on her face. Silent tears slid down her cheeks, and she swiped at them futilely, unable to stop them all. I'd never seen her genuinely upset. And for some reason, probably best unknown to me, I needed to comfort her. So I reached out to hold her.

"Don't touch me!" Her voice broke on the sharp cry. Her entire body trembled with emotion. She stared at me with anguished eyes, glassy with tears.

"Usagi-san, please tell me what's wrong." I asked softly. She squeezed her eyes shut, and her lips trembled.

"I'm not giving up!" Her scream was loud enough to startle the flock of birds from a nearby tree into flight. They streaked across they sky, squawking angrily.

"Not giving up on what?" I asked.

"On you!" She responded. We stared at each other for a moment. I never seem to know exactly what is going on in Usagi's head, but I wasn't about to let her go without finding out this time.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Usagi-san," I said.

"Of course you don't." Her lips turned up in a sardonic smile. "You don't remember anything."

"What don't I remember?" I asked, moving slightly closer. She backed up, stepping into the small brook. Water caressed her ankles, sliding smoothly over her delicate skin.

"Don't patronize me, Chiba-san. I'm not stupid." Usagi said.

"I don't think you're stupid, Usagi-san. Please, tell me what it is I don't remember." I said.

"You'd never believe me," she declared, shaking her head. "You have to find that out on your own. But I'll tell you a little about yourself."

I wondered what Tsukino Usagi could possibly know about me.

She seemed to visibly pull herself together as she approached me. Instead of a broken girl, I saw a collected woman. It was almost as if she tucked away every bit of her that was hurting, packed her emotions away, and forced herself to be strong. But her cool fingers still trembled when she stroked my cheek. Her breath sighed out, and she began to speak.

"You were orphaned when you were only six years old," she told me confidently, "and you were alone for too many years. But it was okay. You didn't remember your parents, and you got used to being alone. And then you started dreaming."

She hiccoughed, her eyes glistened with moisture again. Her fingers slid into my hair. I couldn't believe what she was saying – she was saying things I had never told anyone, never even spoken aloud to myself. Inwardly, I dreaded discovering what more she knew.

"You dreamed of a beautiful princess. A perfect vision who could tell you who you were, if only you could bring her the Ginzuishou. And so you became a superhero. Tuxedo Kamen. The love of every teenage girl in Tokyo. Including me." Her fingers withdrew, drawing back across my cheek with agonizing slowness.

"How did you know all that?" I asked, looking down into her misty blue eyes. She gave me a trembling smile.

"Because I know you, Mamoru-san. I know everything about you. I know more about you than you know about yourself." She would have retreated further, had I not grabbed her wrist and pulled her close.

"What else do you know? Do you know where I can find the Ginzuishou? Do you know who the princess is? Do you know who I am?" Questions spilled out of me before I could stop them.

"I know you have a star-shaped locket that you can't open. And I know that you won't be able to open it until you find your true love, Mamoru. And I know who your princess is. And I know who you are. But don't worry," She said, gently pulling away from me, "you don't have to bring the Ginzuishou to the princess."

"What? Why not?" I asked, taken aback. She leaned forward to place a fleeting kiss on my cheek, slipping her hand into my coat pocket, and removing her shoes.

"Because I already have it," she said. And before I could stop her, she raced away, blonde hair flying out behind her, her sandals clutched tightly in her right hand. I didn't even try to chase her this time.

---

It was late when I got home. I'd walked around for hours, just thinking, trying to imagine how it was possible for Usagi to know so much about me, for Usagi to be in love with me. Had she really implied she was the princess I was seeking? But I'd never seen the princess' face. It was possible. Hell, if I could be a superhero and Usagi could be in love with me, anything was possible.

I sat down at my desk, opening the right hand drawer. I removed the small, star-shaped locket and held it to the light. The gold surface glittered brightly. Out of habit, I pried the sides as hard as I could to no effect. Maybe the princess would tell me how to open it, when I found her.

When I fell asleep that night, I dreamed about Usagi. Smiling, laughing Usagi. The strange Usagi by the brook. The Usagi who stroked my cheek and kissed me with such tenderness. The Usagi who'd proclaimed her love for me out of nowhere. The Usagi who shouted at the top of her lungs that she wouldn't give up on me. The Usagi who loved passionately and fiercely. The Usagi who cried because I'd forgotten her.

When I woke up, it was to a sweet melody. The locket on the desk had opened during the night, playing the same song I'd heard Usagi humming by the brook.

When I woke up, I remembered.


End file.
